


Three Words, One Emotion

by devastating



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Also baby Thanatos and Ares because yes, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Ares just really YEARNS, Brief mention of blood and injuries but not detailed, M/M, Mention of Sisyphus and that whole tale, Mentioned Zagreus (Hades Video Game), No Spoilers though!, Pining, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like zagreus, yes I’m making that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devastating/pseuds/devastating
Summary: Ares feelings towards death has always been one of the few things that have stayed consisted through the years. This is just the story of the three things he called that feeling.Alternate Title: Ares and his life long crush on Thanatos
Relationships: Ares/Thanatos (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	Three Words, One Emotion

**Author's Note:**

> Ares: *exist* 
> 
> Me: hhh—hhnngg— ha-handsome 
> 
> Ares grabbed me by the neck and told me to love him and I can only do so much honestly. Also I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s one of the only olympians that is nice to all of the chthonic gods. Not only does he admire Thanatos and Nyx but he never once insults Charon and in this house, we respect Charon and therefore respect Ares for that. 
> 
> Also yes I know this ship isn’t popular but guess what? As a writer I can make my dreams into a reality so guess who the fuck is going to spend all their time filling up this tag with dumb fics? That’s right. This mediocre bitch so be ready for that.

Where there is war, there is death. It is both inevitable and destined. War cannot exist without death and Ares knows this better than anyone. It is common knowledge to him, something that he has known for far longer than he has ever been able to comprehend. He knows his worth, has pride in his power and abilities, but he isn’t so foolish to think that he is above death— that anyone is above death. 

It is why when he learns of Thanatos existence, he can’t help but be devoted to him almost immediately. 

The news of Thanatos birth was one that should have shaken the foundation of the world but somehow, it did not. At the time, Ares was nothing more than a child as well, barely old enough to finally start learning about his responsibility as the god of war. But even as a child, he could not help but feel anger at the blatant disregard for such a powerful deity, one that was so very clearly bigger than any of them. 

_’Godling’_ , they called him. _’Beneath them’_ , his father said. It coated his mouth with a bitter taste. One that only grew as the days passed by. He came to learn that Death was not the only one who was disrespected in such a way however. Nyx, Mother Night herself, was seen as a lesser god. Called a simple consort of his uncle instead of the awe inspiring and powerful being that she was. How many times had he felt comfort under the night sky? How many things did the world owe to Nyx? And yet to everyone in Olympus, she was nothing more than a consort. 

_“Chthonic Gods are lesser than us Ares.”_

That left a damn near poisonous taste in his mouth. 

Of course, as a child, there is little that he could have done to change that statement. And even as his powers grew, that notion was one that felt as if it was set in stone. A notion that even his siblings soon began to express themselves— a notion that was accepted as the simple truth instead of the clear opinion that it was. 

It soon became something that he did not think much of, did not even humor the thought and instead focused solely on his own strength and ideals. If that was how his family thought of the others then that was what they thought, it mattered little to him because at the end of the day, he knew just how grander the chthonic gods were compared to them. Knew just how much more valuable Death truly was. 

He was still a young god when he finally met Death. Still young enough to be called a child by his uncle and father, but old enough to have started to garner respect from others. Old enough to know how things are meant to be done and what the rules of the game are but still not know how to win. It is this weird limbo of age that he’s in that causes him to both be frozen in shyness but also brimming with excitement when he spots him. 

Thanatos is both as beautiful and more beautiful than he imagined. As precise and powerful as he dreamed of, and even more skilled than he could have ever thought of. He’s younger than him, still clearly a child that has not yet grown into his proportions. Tall but not built, his jawline pronounced but still under cheeks filled with baby fat. But it is his hair, long and smooth like silk. Waving in the air like fine strands made from spiders web that the god of war obsesses over. The color is not unusual, nothing more than a simple shade of tint and in retrospect, long hair on a man is not even something that is new to him. Still, the sight of it causes Ares heart to jump. It is impossible for gods to truly die, impossible for a god to fall to illness, but in that moment, he can’t help but feel as if he’s in the brisk of death simply in the way that his heart clenches at the mere sight of the younger god. 

He’s snapped out of his trance at the sight of sudden movement. Time slows down just a fraction, enough for him to see them. Keres, nasty things that he’s more than just familiar with. One too many times he has seen them eat and desecrate newly perished men. A nasty affair that he often turns his back on, but this time, this time they do not latch onto a dying man or fresh corpse— they charge towards Death. Thanatos does not move nor does he fight. The boys' feet do not even take a step back and instead Ares watches as Thanatos closes his eyes and braces himself for the attack. 

He moves on instinct then. Fighting is second nature to the god of war and it does not take more than two swings of his sword for the Keres to retreat. Some wounded, but none killed. He’s not sure if that is because they cannot die or because he was too focused on just getting them to go instead of killing. He does not really care either way. 

“You’re…” The small whisper causes him to jump slightly, turning around to find the smaller boy eying him warily, confused by what he just saw. It does not surprise him, he doubts that Death is not aware of how most Olympians see him, but despite it not being unsurprising, it still settles an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. 

“Death” he answers, past nerves now replaced with the need to right whatever wrongs have been done to the boy. “It’s an honor to meet you” he beamed and almost instantly the smaller boy sputters, blushing in a way that reveals that he’s unfamiliar with attention. 

“You’re.. war” Thanatos mumbled, floating away slightly. 

“Ares. I prefer Ares” he smiled before looking back towards where the Keres ran off to before turning back. “You didn’t fight them,” he mumbled. The younger god frowned, lowering his head and hunching his shoulder into himself. Instantly, Ares regretted what he had said. “T-That’s not a bad thing! No, I meant— I’m just surprised that you didn’t fight” he quickly added. 

That caused Thanatos to look up again, unsure of what to make out of that sentence but at least he was no longer looking down. “I don’t like it...” 

Ares couldn’t relate to that feeling but knew that most weren’t like him. He hadn’t been teased by all his siblings his whole life to not know that most people enjoyed other simpler things instead of picking up a sword and fighting. Even still. There was a difference in pleasure and protection. 

“Even if it’s to protect yourself?” He asked. 

Thanatos frowned, worrying his lip with his teeth, “I don’t” he huffed. “I don’t know how,” he mumbled. 

Ares blinked, surprised by what he’d heard, but that shock quickly morphed into a simple minded excitement. A ray of light in an unexpected situation and so he does not hesitate to say, “I can teach you.” 

Thanatos doesn’t say anything to that and instead whisks away to get back to work, but the simple twitch to his lip is enough of an answer. The younger god would not mind being taught by him, and that thought alone causes Ares to smile. 

It takes a while for him to run into Thanatos again and even then the younger boy is always too shy to stay for more than just a simple hello and goodbye. But slowly, ever so slowly, the younger god started warming up to him. It is not drastic, there are no long winded conversations or even any heartwarming moments, but Thanatos eyes no longer run from him. His body no longer swayed away from him, and he no longer hid behind a curtain of hair. It’s small progress, but it’s enough to make Ares smile. 

But he doesn’t truly smile until the day that Thanatos approaches him first, the younger god refusing to look him in the eye. His nervousness and shyness had always had a certain cute appeal but today Ares can't help but immediately want to fawn over the younger god. 

“You don’t have to if you’re busy but” Thanatos mumbled. “My mother gave me.. she gave me a sword..” 

“Thanatos” Ares smiled stepping closer to the boy with a smile. “I’d love to teach you how to use it if you let me.” 

And there it was again, the small twitch of his lips that Ares often found himself thinking of. He’ll later dream of the way Thanatos eyes softened at his words. He’ll later dream of the way that the younger god looked ethereal with a sword in hand. He’ll later dream of just how perfect it felt to fight with death, how it felt more like a dance than combat. 

But in that moment, nothing in the world would have been able to take his attention from the god of death.

* * *

Something was wrong. 

He watches and waits, sees as the battle ends and the victors rise with battle cries that feel as if they can reach Olympus. But amongst the cheering, amongst the happiness and splendor— not a single soul is yet reaped. So he waits, waits for the familiar chill and the familiar face. Waits for the butterflies and the obsolete silence. 

He waits, but none ever come. 

He can only watch as souls meant to be reaped, men that are supposed to perish, simply stay in place. Thanatos is not here. Thanatos is late. 

Something’s very wrong. 

There is a low simmering anger in his chest. It is not anger towards Thanatos, no. He is incapable of ever feeling such a way towards the god he has devoted himself to. Scarcely does he ever feel anything but deep admiration for Death. No. The anger in his chest is pointed towards whatever keeps the younger god busy. 

Thanatos is late, he always is though he can never be faulted for that. When mortal men die with the quickness that they do, it is impossible for one single god to be able to be on top of everything. Impossible for one lone boy to be able to manage the entire world. So Thanatos is late, this is as true as night and day, but Thanatos is never entirely absent. 

Something’s very very wrong. 

His hand tightens into a fist as he turns away from the battlefield. He does not have the talent of his sister Artemis nor does he have Athena’s patience. He specializes in direct assaults, direct confrontation. He does not hunt. He does not strategize. _He does not wait._

So he doesn't and instead, he does what he does best. 

His anger and fury are something that he has yet to be able to grasp full control of. Something that he spends everyday trying to control, but today, he lets it all bleed out onto the world. His power seeps out of him like an open wound, spewing onto the ground and tainting each step he takes. His siblings once called him a bloodthirsty monster that relished in the pain of others. Today, he will be just that— but it is not a festering wound yet. He is not so blinded by his anger to let himself forget what is important. 

He knows from his father that Thanatos was sent to deal with Sisyphus. Knows that Sisyphus is in Ephyra. It does not take him long to find his way into the palace. His anger bleeds into the air but he does not let loose just yet. No. His heart yearns to see death before letting his anger take over, before inflicting pain onto the man that has taken his god from him. 

King Sisyphus’ hall is empty when he arrives, night calling for most to be in bed— his anger scaring the rest from the palace. There are little places where the king could have hidden Thanatos but somehow he cannot find him at all. It does not help that he cannot sense the younger god, that there is no trace left of him. The anger he feels grows but is quickly joined with worry as he begins to ransack the hall. Walls are torn down and the ground itself is cracked with each hit of his sword. It’s only once he rips the door of another room off its hinges that he sees the first sign of Thanatos presence. 

Leaning against the wall is Death’s most beloved scythe. Arete, Thanatos called it once. It stands solemnly now, almost defeated. He does not hesitate to take it into his hand. It is a weapon, a tool, but he knows better than anyone that it is alive. An extension of the gods power and a companion. Despite not being able to speak, despite it not being able to do anything in his hands, Arete is enough of a sign to let him know that Thanatos is here. That he is near. 

He tears more walls down, with Arete by his side now, the anger inside of him only grows. From a simmer to a boil that only causes him to grow sloppy in his search for Death. But eventually, he rips down the right wall and feels his whole world stop. Feels his heart shatter into millions of pieces. 

Tied in chains not meant for him is Thanatos. The thick smell of dried blood permeates the air. Newly formed scars visible from where the chains hold the young god down. The gods once soft hair is now a tangled mess of dried blood and mats and the usual richness in his eyes is gone. 

What Ares sees in that room is a broken boy not a god. 

He drops Arete on the ground as he runs over to the younger boy. He’s frantic in how he tries to get the chains off of him. All the while Death does not even blink at him. It does not matter how many times he calls Thanatos name or the frantic scared words that are coming out of his mouth, Death does not pay him any attention. He ransacks the rest of the hall in search of keys and even as he finally takes the chains off, Death does not move. 

“Thanatos” his voice quivers with both fear and panic. Grabbing the younger gods shoulders before shaking him slightly, only then does Death blink. But Thanatos does not cry. He does not yell in anger or crumble in despair. He merely blinks as his eyes focus on Ares. On everything around him and then on Arete. 

“I’m late” Thanatos whispers. 

“Let me help you” Ares breathed out. Trying to gather the younger god in his arms to take him away from here but that movement snaps Thanatos out of his trance. The younger god pushing him away instantly before running over to Arete. 

“I’m late, I’m late” Thanatos breathed out frantically and before Ares could say anything else. Do anything else. Death vanished. 

That night, Ares lets the world break. Let’s his anger seep onto the streets of Ephyra and cause bloodshed never seen before. That night. He’s deemed the cruelest god of Olympus. 

And yet that does not pain him as much as seeing Death get so irreversible hurt all because one mortal man did not wish to die just yet.

* * *

It has been a long time since he’s come to learn that what he feels for death is not what he says he feels. In his childish mind he called it devotion, in his teenage brain he called it admiration. Now that he’s grown older he knows there is only one word that can explain what he feels for Thanatos and that is love. He does not have to speak with Aphrodite to even know this. Does not even have to look deep within himself to figure this out. It is a simple conclusion that changes nothing for him. 

War loves death. 

It is simple. Elementary in a way. Almost instinctual with just how natural it feels to love death the way that he does. There is no war without death and therefore, he is nothing without Thanatos. As grim as it sounds, he knows it to be true. 

He does not hide his affection either. Every life that he takes is done with Death in mind. Wars are waged as morbid signs of devotion to the younger god. Every drop of blood that is spilt is the ink he uses for the love letters he wishes to send to them. He yearns for Death in a way that he doubts anyone would ever be able to comprehend. It is all encompassing and suffocating, so grand that there was little hope of him being able to hide it at all. 

War loves death. 

But death does not love war in return. 

Something broke that night in King Sisyphus Hall. The fragility of the friendship that they once had shattered into millions of pieces. What was once a boy filled with gentleness and curiosity, was now a man that was curt and closed off. Gone was the flowing long locks of hair. Gone was the chubby cheeks and shining bright eyes. Gone was the Thanatos that once came to him. 

He does not know what occurred during Thanatos times in Sisyphus’ hall. Does not know what that mortal did to his god. What he does know however is what remained afterwards. It haunts him still, the image of death chained up. It rips into his insides and makes him feel the kind of anger that he felt that night. It is an infected wound that refuses to heal and he can only imagine what it is like for Thanatos. 

But death no longer comes to him. It is as painful as it is lonely. Selfishly he’s thought of breaking into Hades realm if only to be able to talk to Thanatos and beg for the younger gods attention. But with age came maturity, and he knows now that there are things that one can do and there are things that one can’t do. 

War cannot force death to love him in return. 

And so he watches from afar. Yearns for death and basks in the slight moments of attention that he can get. Stays close enough to be there for the younger god, but far enough to give him space. They are no longer children. He is no longer that excited and angry young god that ran over to death with a smile on his face. He is no longer the one Death runs to teach him how to fight. 

It is why it comes as a shock to him when Thanatos approaches him one day. It creates a kind of excitement he hasn’t felt in years. He can’t help the smile that comes across his face as he turns to the younger god. 

“Thanatos, it has been too long my dear.” 

Thanatos nods, looking to the side and back to him. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to ask something from you, of course that is if you have the time.” 

“You know that I always have time for you,” he chuckled. “There is hardly anything I would not do for you.”

At that the younger god frowned. He always frowned at the idea of being the center of attention even if he was the one that asked for it. “It’s just a simple question. I’ve been told that Athena reached out to you recently.” 

“She has.” He answers, thinking back to what she asked from him a couple days before. “If I recall correctly. My half cousin wishes to escape the underworld, correct?” 

“Yes.” Thanatos replied before breathing in slowly. “Will you be helping?” 

He wants to say no, that is at least what he had told Athena. He sees no reason to get involved with this family drama. Sees no benefit in getting on his uncle's bad side. But Thanatos looks at him with some level of desperation, of urgency that the younger god has never shown him before. It’s rare for Thanatos to show this kind of emotion now that he’s gotten older. Even rarer for him to willingly come to him and show him said emotions. That alone is why he doesn’t answer to what he’s been asked and instead waits for the younger god to continue. 

“Zag—Prince Zagreus, he is strong. He is skilled too, but… it is harder than we all first believed.” Thanatos explained before grunting. “Despite all his efforts he can't get past Asphodel.” 

Ares looked at the younger god carefully. Zagreus. That is his cousin's name apparently. Prince Zagreus, Thanatos called him— or more like corrected himself to call him that. He had meant to simply call him by his name he realizes. 

“You must be close to him” he says and is unsurprised to find Death's eyes flick to the side. 

“He and I are close friends, yes.” Thanatos answered. 

He should feel jealousy at that. Should be envious of this newly discovered cousin for being able to have Death to himself. His reputation has labeled him as a god that could be quickly angered. A god that would rather choose hatred than peace. He should hate Zagreus. Damn this unknown god for taking what he has loved for years. 

But he doesn’t. He can’t find it in himself to hate this boy simply because for the first time since Sisyphus, he saw Thanatos lips twitch into a smile once more. If death finds happiness and comfort in this smaller god then that is enough to sate his own happiness. Gods are known to be selfish, to be greedy. Yet somehow, just the thought of Thanatos being happy is enough for him even if he isn’t the one to bring him that happiness. 

“Worry not my dear,” he smiled at the younger god. “I will give my kin all the power that I can to help him get out of there.” 

There is very little war won’t do for Death after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t worry. Ares was totally Thanatos childhood/ teenage crush and he’s only “oblivious” to it now because boy sucks at dealing with emotions. And yes, he’ll later realize that he made it sound like he liked Zagreus and probably brood about it for days. You’re welcome. 
> 
> If you want to yell at me about Hades, I’m on [twitter!](https://mobile.twitter.com/wrathiess)


End file.
